Nowadays, traditional RPGs--Role Playing Games--seem to be out of fashion. First person shooters and online games became the new focus of people's attention.
To me however, nothing beats a good RPG with a sound plot. Graphical effects and battle experience aside, the opportunity to take a break from your boring, ordinary life and play as some hero in an epic adventure always appeals to me more than anything else.
Lately I've been having a problem.
Every time I tried to play a game, a voice inside my head would scream to me: "Hey, it's my turn!"
At first I thought it's just me hearing things, so I tried to ignore it. However, the voice soon grew so loud that I could hardly concentrate on playing the games.
Eventually, I had to give up the games which I loved so much. But instead of leaving me alone, the voice began to assault me even when I was not playing: on the bus, in my bedroom, and even when I was sitting on the toilet--"Get lost, it's my turn!"
Finally I made up my mind to pay a visit to the psychiatrist. The doctor, a scrawny old man in an oversized white gown, asked me to lie down on a long leather sofa, and proceeded to babble away on stuffs I could barely understand: Sigmund Freud, self-denial, blah, blah, blah. In no time I was so confused that my eyelids felt heavy and I could barely keep myself awake--
"Get out of that sofa! I said it's MY TURN!"
Oh my God! Can't you sucker leave me alone for just ONE MINUTE?
Furious, I jumped up from the sofa and, ignoring that look on the psychiatrist's face, screamed at the top of my lungs.
"Alright! It's your friggin' turn--satisfied?"
For a few seconds, everything turned black. And then, as my eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness around me, I found myself sitting on a small sofa facing a huge TV set. Flashing on the TV screen were the words "The Sims 12" in green capital letters.
Before I could figure out what was happening, a large hand snatched the headset from my head, and gave me a heavy shove, which sent me stumbling out of the sofa. As I scrambled to my feet, bewildered, I saw a tall man in jeans and a red T-shirt sitting down on the sofa.
"I can't believe you played for so long, dude," he muttered in that familiar voice I've heard for a thousand times within my head. "You don't own this friggin' arcade, you know."